Orchestral
by kittenkatpaw
Summary: Postfinale, C&OC.  After an amicable divorce, Chandler is corraled by the others into meeting someone new.  Just my little attempt to give him someone good enough for him!   Lemme know if she needs to be better!
1. Chapter 1

A fic featuring C/OC. Is the OC a Mary Sue? Dunno, don't care, I just wanna see poor Chandler with someone less shrill & self-centered than Monica became as the series wore on. (I really liked Monica for the first several seasons, but...eh. She's just not good enough for Our Chandler. G ) So. Lemme know if this OC is/isn't good enough for our boy, and we'll see what we can do about it! ;D

Ch. 1 starts out sounding like a pretty bleak story, which is misleading; but I was nostalgic, and trying to get things as much like The Good Old Days of the early seasons as I could...yep, I'm a hopeless romantic. Plus I fear change. So sue me. : 

It had been bad, for a long time afterward; in fact, calling it "horrific" would have understated it immensely. Funerals could never be said to be fun, but when the caskets were miniatures, when in a single unbelievable accident an entire generation of a family died violently, superlatives weren't wasted. Judy Geller was so devastated that she had to be heavily sedated for weeks. After all, she'd been the one driving.

In the aftermath of the deaths of the children, Ross and Rachel drew closer together, supporting each other through the loss of their daughter; Chandler and Monica imploded, the loss of the twins bringing into sharp relief the tensions that had grown between them. Weary by the time of the divorce, they had managed to stay civil, and in time realized that they were far better suited as friends than as husband and wife. As the group dynamic drifted back to something approaching the normal of their earlier days, the entire group centralized in the Village once more. Joey joined them after his show in L.A. got canceled, managing to find an apartment within 10 blocks of Rachel and Ross, and Chandler moved in with him after the divorce. Monica lived with Ross and Rachel for a short time until she found a place nearby. Though it was far less convenient than when most of them had lived in the same building, they made the time to hang out with Phoebe and Mike, refusing to let themselves drift apart again. Time apart had only taught them how much each of them needed the others. Whenever one of them had an opportunity for an evening out, it usually spread to the others, whether it was a simple outing to a movie or a full day's excursion around town.

One evening, it happened to be the symphony. Mike called Joey and told him that Phoebe had won four tickets through a radio promotion and she and Mike had bought three others so they all could go. Joey put his hand over the receiver and called into the next room. "Hey, Chandler! You wanna go to the thing, the symphony?"

Chandler stuck his head out of the bathroom, toweling his hair vigorously. "What, with the guys? Sure, why not?"

"Sure, why not?" Joey repeated into the phone. "When? Yeah, great. See you guys then." He hung up and headed for his bedroom.

Chandler stuck his head back out of the bathroom door. "Why are we going to the symphony?"

"Phoebe won tickets."

"What are they playing?"

Joey shrugged. "Who cares? All that classical music sounds the same." Then he grinned. "But there'll be lots of rich, fancy women, so what's the problem?"

Chandler paused, his mouth quirked. "Yeah, 'cause I've got such a good track record..." And back into the bathroom he went.

Joey blew out forcefully and diverted from bedroom to bathroom. "Will you get over it already? What, are you never gonna date again? Jeez. Even Monica's been hounding you to get back in the game. She's dating around, why shouldn't you?"

Chandler tossed the wet towel into the hamper. "Yeah. Yeah, I will. I'll get over it, I'll date again. As soon as I find someone that, you know, is smart and funny and sensitive and pretty and doesn't think I'm a complete neurotic basketcase. So that'll be like, what, 2057?"

"Psh. Dude, we're gonna find you somebody."

"Yeah."

"Tonight. We're gonna find you somebody tonight."

"You mean, somebody I don't have to pay?"

"Come on, it's not impossible. I mean, you've found girls who would date you before..."

"And _there's_ a ringing endorsement," Chandler said, ducking past Joey and heading for his own bedroom.

"So we'll find another one." Joey followed him doggedly. "I'm gonna talk to the other guys. I'll put Ross and Mike on it, and they'll help keep a lookout tonight."

"Are you trying to find me a date, or robbing a bank?"

"I'm serious, Chandler. You need to get back on that horse."

"There's a million jokes there, but I just can't bring myself to pick one," Chandler muttered. "Do you mind if I get dressed alone?"

Joey looked around, realizing he'd followed Chandler all the way into his room. He started to leave, but pointed determinedly at Chandler. "We're finding you a girl tonight. Whether you want one or not."

"Yeah, that's the right way to start a relationship," Chandler called after him as he closed the door. He pulled off his robe and threw it on the bed. "Damn it," he mumbled. He'd really thought Monica was The One, and it had exploded in his face. He'd loved Kathy, too, and Janice before her, and truthfully, he _wanted_ to be in a relationship. He wanted to be in love. But it just wasn't worth it. A relationship just wasn't worth the pain of it ending. Maybe later after time had passed-- after _more_ time had passed, he reminded himself-- he'd be willing to chance it again. But god. Not yet. Not tonight. He dug into the back of his closet for something suitable to wear later to hear the New York Philharmonic.


	2. Chapter 2

The orchestra was, of course, exceptional. The seats were wonderful, though the sound quality was excellent throughout Lincoln Center. Chandler and Joey had to be reined in by their friends a few times; Joey kept picking out women in the audience and trying to "sell" Chandler on them. Some of them were clearly there with partners, as Joey was showing little discretion in his choices. If it was female, it was fair game. "It's a good thing they don't allow goats," Chandler whispered to Rachel, who shushed him but grinned a little behind her hand. "He'd have me arrested before the night's over."

By the time the night _was_ over, Joey was a little grumpy, both because he'd found the orchestral music boring and because Chandler had not agreed to approach any of the women he'd chosen. Before he could be very vocal with his pouting, though, an usher appeared at the end of the aisle and beckoned Phoebe and Mike over. "You are the contest winners I seated, right?" she asked pleasantly. "Part of the prize package includes a backstage tour. Would you like to see?"

"Sure," Phoebe answered. "But we brought a few more friends with us; can they come, too?"

The usher nodded pleasantly. "Of course. We're always happy when patrons want to learn more about the Philharmonic."

Joey would have protested at having to spend more time there before heading out for pizza, but the usher was cute, so he grinned and gave what he considered a subtle gesture to Chandler. Chandler nearly ducked and hid, nearly causing Joey to rethink his definition of "subtle," but Chandler fell in line with the others and didn't make a break for it at the end of the aisle. The usher began the tour then and there, giving them information about the Lincoln Center, the Philharmonic, the many changes the orchestra had gone through over the years since its founding in 1842. She led them backstage, talking pleasantly as they passed various musicians caring for their instruments before casing them and bustling into and out of the changing rooms. She introduced them to several, who greeted them politely and thanked them for attending. Then one of the other ushers rushed to their guide and whispered something to her. She furrowed her pretty brow, then turned to the group. "I have to attend to something; would you mind terribly waiting here for just a moment? I'll be right back." At their agreement, she hurried back out into the theatre.

They stood for a few moments in a rare silence, then Joey started scoping musicians. "What about her?" He elbowed Chandler and grinned lasciviously. "She's got a cello."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Think they've got a water fountain around here? I have a sudden need to bathe." He leaned against the wall and turned his head away from the (grantedly well-endowed) cello player. He blinked a few times, then breathed quietly, "Well."

Ross and Joey, both close enough to hear him, turned to look. One of the musicians had stowed her instrument-- a violin, from the looks of the case-- beside a chair and had raised back up, lifting her hands to her hair to undo the clip that bound it. Her hair dropped in a mass of curls that immediately entangled the clip and she began patiently to unwind it. Her black dress flattered her figure well, and her face had a sculpted look that Chandler thought was normally reserved for pictures of elegant Old World women in expensive magazines. She freed the recalcitrant clip and glanced their way for a moment, and smiled.

"Her?" Joey asked as the woman turned away again. "No way is she gonna be available, man. Pick a different one."

Chandler started, then turned back to Joey and Ross. "Oh, she's out of my league anyway."

"Dude, she's out of Joey's league," Ross said, grinning and steadfastly ignoring the look Joey gave him.

"Who're we talking about?" Rachel asked, joining the little cluster of ogling men.

"The violin player." Ross gestured faintly over his shoulder.

Rachel peeked around him. "Oooh, she's pretty. Which of you is interested in her?"

"Chandler," Joey answered immediately.

"No, I'm not. I just saw her and-- wait, I didn't even say anything to you guys. I just saw her."

"You said 'wow,'" Ross offered.

"No, I didn't. I didn't say anything."

"Why are you fighting over this?" Rachel asked, suppressing a grin.

"I just looked, all right? That's all. It's not like there's a point in going over there--"

"Why not?" Rachel asked. "Go ask her out."

"Are you kidding me? Could she be more out of my range?"

"You thought the same thing about Aurora, and she went out with you," Rachel countered.

"Yeah, and I fell for her and had to dump her because-- look, there's no point in me going over there, so let's just drop it, all right?"

Joey grinned broadly. "All right. We won't go over there."

"Good-- wait a minute, why are _you_ agreeing with me?"

Joey looked past Chandler's shoulder. "Hi."

Chandler spun around and nearly smashed into the violinist, who had approached while they were arguing. "Hello," the woman replied, looking to each of them in turn. "I saw that Suze had to leave-- would you like me to give you the rest of your tour?"

Chandler made a noise that was nothing near a word and the others rushed in to save him. "Sure, we would love that," Rachel said, reaching over to pull Monica and Phoebe into the conversation. "Hey, guys, she's offering to continue our tour. Wouldn't that be great?" She smiled broadly and nodded at them in encouragement.

Phoebe shrugged. "Yeah, sure." Monica nodded and smiled brightly. As neither of them had heard the byplay between the three men, they didn't understand Rachel's gushiness; but Joey's big grin suggested that they had made him very happy by agreeing.

Ross leapt in, determined to contribute to the cause or at least continue embarrassing Chandler as much as possible. He spun through introductions to the group, ending with, "And you would be...?"

The woman opened her mouth, then looked down briefly before facing them again with a resolute smile. "Symphony Bettencourt."

Figuring he had misheard, Joey asked, "What?"

She nodded. "Symphony Bettencourt. I know, it's the stupidest name ever. But both my parents were musicians in the orchestra, and devout bohemians." She rolled her eyes ceilingward. "I know, I should change it. Especially considering that I'm actually _in_ the symphony."

Chandler finally managed to find a few words. "I think it's nice."

She shrugged and closed her eyes. "That's kind of you to say." Then she brightened. "Goofy names aside, let me show you the rest of our beautiful theatre." She retrieved her purse and her violin case, entrusted the latter to one of the other musicians, then gestured for them to follow her. She proved to be even more knowledgeable about the Center and the Philharmonic than the usher; Symphony's mother, Sonya, had played the viola with the orchestra for ten years before retiring to raise Symphony. Her father Charles ("pronounced as in the French, 'Sharl,'" Symphony told them, rolling her eyes dramatically and playfully) had played cello with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra until meeting Sonya; he had promptly moved to New York and eventually got on with the orchestra there. He had retired only within the past ten years, well after his daughter had started playing with them. She told slightly different stories than Suze had been telling, stories about musicians forgetting their instruments in cabs minutes before the concert or guest musicians who had demanded the moon and then suddenly forgotten passages of music they should have known by rote. She named no names, but her stories were still more interesting than who had owned the theatre when. All in all, the tour provided a few more laughs than Joey had been expecting. He especially liked when Symphony had shown them a dressing room in which a previous concertmaster and one of the other violinists had been caught in flagrante only minutes before a performance. Joey appreciated the humor of the situation, pointing out how small the room was and how carefully the two must have positioned themselves to manage sex in such cramped quarters. "We get it, Joey," Monica told him, drawing him away from the doorway by one arm.

The tour ended at the stage door, the one the musicians used to enter the backstage area. Symphony stepped out into the night with them, sweeping her arms wide. "I hope you enjoyed the evening," she said, glancing around at the classic New York night. The pavement shone with the light rain, and a nearby manhole cover vented steam into the air. "Do you need an escort back to your vehicle, or shall I call you a cab, or anything?"

"Actually," Mike said, "is there a good pizza place nearby?"

Symphony threw her head back and held out her hands in a gesture of decadent delight. "Oh, _is_ there a good pizza place! There's this little place called Sheperd's, you'd never know it was a pizza place unless you actually went inside. They have pizza there _this thick_"-- she gestured-- "and they just _load_ it. They still handmake their pizzas, and it should just be illegal, how good their pizzas are." She looked around the group. "That's probably more of an answer than you were looking for. Anyway, getting there's a little complicated, but it's worth it. You take a left at this block--" She pointed down the alley toward a set of traffic lights. "Go a block, then right a block, then left again about half a block. There's a road that's closed, or you could just go straight down. Anyway, Sheperd's is downstairs from an office furniture place, and it's just a doorway on street level, so you'll have to really look for it, especially at night--" She glanced around, measuring. "You know, if you don't mind my company for a few more minutes, I could just take you there."

Joey slapped Chandler in the ribs with the backs of his fingers. Chandler glared at him, which of course did no good. Meanwhile, the rest of the group had agreed that Symphony's offer was very kind and that they certainly appreciated her help. "Have dinner with us," Monica added, having seen Joey slap Chandler and realizing what had been going on earlier. "It could be our thank you for finishing the tour for us."

"Are you sure?" At Monica's emphatic response, she agreed, and the group set off in search of Sheperd's.

Symphony had not misled them; the restaurant's door was not well marked and partially hidden by a potted tree from the furniture store. It opened directly into a stairwell that led down to a well-lit, friendly pizzeria with, as promised, fantastic pizza. Those in the group who had joined in with Joey's quest to find a date for Chandler went a little over the top in trying to make Symphony feel welcome and, as the others gradually caught on to the game, eventually began a bout of one-upsmanship to catch her up on the group's history and relationships. Someone brought up the story of Chandler getting bitten by the peacock at the zoo, and suddenly the entire conversation centered around embarrassing Chandler stories.

Chandler himself was ready to slide under the table to see if he could possibly find a hole to crawl into. He was still intrigued by the woman-- she was smart and funny and the other things he'd told Joey he wanted, though whether she considered him a neurotic basketcase remained to be seen; he was putting off speaking to delay that diagnosis for as long as possible-- but the way the group was throwing _him_ at her unnerved him. "Guys," he finally said, "there's plenty of time for her to figure out what an idiot I am. You don't have to give it to her all at once." He glanced her way before reaching for his glass, and she smiled at him. She smiled. Was that a good sign, did it indicate she was interested, that she found _him_ interesting? Or was it a sympathetic smile, one that said, "Your friends are nice, but scary, and I can see why you're a raving nutjob"? He shook his head. He tortured himself enough with thinking like that when he was _in_ a relationship. This woman, he'd likely never even see again.

They decimated several large pizzas over the course of the conversation and the staff had begun to clear up for the night when the group finally began to wind down. Ross turned to Symphony. "Thanks for joining us, it was a lot of fun. And so was the tour."

She smiled. "No problem. You guys are a riot; it was well worth the late night to spend time with you." She scooted out her chair and started to rise.

Joey just couldn't let her get away that easily. "Well, if you had fun with us, would you like to hang out with us again some time?" He ignored the murderous look Chandler shot him and gave Symphony his most winning smile.

She looked around the table and, meeting with no disagreement, shrugged a little and smiled shyly. "I actually would really like that." She glanced down at the napkin she was twisting in her hands. "I would." She rose, rummaged in her purse and withdrew a business card. Handing it to Joey, she said, "I can't do much on weekends, I'm afraid, but...I'd love to hang out." She smiled at the group again, thanked them, and left.

Chandler exhaled slowly. Of course, she would give her number to Joey. Why had he even hoped? Then he realized that he _had_ hoped, and mentally kicked himself. How did he let himself be talked into these things? They never worked out right, anyway. Why had he let Joey's enthusiasm give him any kind of--

"Holy-- she's the concertmaster," Ross said, interrupting Chandler's internal self-derision. Ross was looking at the card Symphony had given Joey.

"What, she's the conductor, or something? I thought he was a guy."

"No, Joe, she's the first chair violinist. She's-- she's like a world-class soloist, and she heads up the whole string section. And jeez, she looked young-- what, late thirties, early forties at the most." Ross shook his head.

Chandler nodded, half of a bitter smile quirking one side of his face. "Great. That's great. You guys really know how to pick them, don't you?"

"You gotta try," Joey insisted, looking at the business card that had so fascinated Ross. He shrugged at the card and kept talking. "She left her number. She wants to hang out with us again." He held the card toward Chandler in triumph.

"Yeah." Chandler stood, straightened his jacket and pushed in his chair. "She left _you_ her number." He shook his head. "Look, guys, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But this isn't setting me up with somebody, this is...setting me up to fail."

Rachel frowned. "Oh, honey, why do you think that?"

"Uh...my track record of relentless failure?"

Monica stood and took his hand, rubbing his upper arm soothingly. "Sweetie, that's not true."

He met her eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, we didn't work out, but that doesn't mean anything."

Chandler stared down at his hands and gave the tiniest shake of his head. "Really, thanks. But let's just drop it, okay? If something happens, great. If not...well, I'll be less likely to make a fool of myself, anyway."

"You think?" Joey asked, and Ross "accidentally" elbowed him into silence. Chandler just laughed, and they left the situation at that.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, they took turns inviting Symphony to group events. She always accepted, until it was Chandler's turn, an invitation to a park picnic outing on a Thursday evening. She said she couldn't, that she had to be up early on Friday for a rehearsal including a piece of music that she was having real trouble with. She said she regretted it, that she'd really like to spend time with him, with all of them, but she simply couldn't, and he would let her know the next time she was welcome, wouldn't he?

Of course he would, he assured her, and then he hung up and banged his head on the wall a few times. Oddly enough, it didn't help.

The next time, when Joey invited her to see himself in an Off-Broadway production, she agreed happily. She arrived at their apartment in a strapless velvet gown of dark emerald that added a glow to her eyes, her hair upswept like the night he had first seen her, diamonds sparkling at her earlobes but her throat and shoulders bare. Chandler opened the door to her, and had some trouble breathing. She asked if she was overdressed, and he couldn't form an answer. If possible, she was even more lovely than that night at Lincoln Center, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Now, he had to admit that he was interested in her. Now, when he knew she wasn't interested in _him_.

Figured.

The _next_ next time, he wouldn't have cared if she'd been there or not, because the day was just going to be so damn much fun: Monica and Rachel's old apartment in the building at Grove and Bedford had become available, and he and Joey had rented it. He was sure that there wasn't a woman alive who could have dampened his spirits that day, not Janice, not his mother, no one.

Even though it wasn't exactly a "fun" outing, Monica invited Symphony to help the boys move. She didn't bother telling Chandler, so he'd been a bit surprised when she showed up at his and Joey's soon-to-be-vacated apartment with Symphony in tow. This time Symphony was dressed in well-worn blue jeans, a faded tee shirt, and a plain ball cap with her ponytail looped over the back strap. If possible, he found her even more adorable this way, but he managed a hello and reiterated to himself that no woman alive could bum him out today. She bustled around the apartment with the others, packing boxes, taping them shut, and he dropped three plates and the blender before Ross finally grabbed him and dragged him into one of the empty bedrooms. Ross closed the door and leaned on it, immediately adopting a casual pose, as if he hadn't just waylaid Chandler and trapped him. "Something wrong?" he asked off-handedly.

Chandler stared at him a moment, then answered, "No, nothing. Not at all. Nothing's wrong. No. Why?"

Ross said nothing, just bit his lip condescendingly and glanced down at Chandler's hands. Chandler followed his gaze and saw that he was bubblewrapping the handle-- just the handle-- from the broken blender jar. "Oh," he said quietly. He opened his mouth again, a snide excuse ready, but then he stopped. "Am I that obvious?"

"To us, yeah, I guess you are. But we know you. She might just think you're a neurotic basketcase."

Chandler tried to smile at Ross' use of his own phrase. "I tried not to."

"I know."

"I'm not happy about it--"

"I know that, too."

"I feel like I'm twelve. 'Why can't she like me back?'" He shook his head. "Could I be more pathetic?"

"Chandler, for god's sake, ask her out. Just the two of you. See what happens."

"I know what will happen!" He looked around the room, spotted a box that they were throwing trash in, and tossed in the blender handle. "She wouldn't even come to that stupid picnic when I invited her. Why would she go somewhere with me when it was just the two of us?"

"She had rehearsal the next morning."

"She's got rehearsals all the time. She doesn't have a life, she has the Philharmonic, remember? That's why she latched on to us-- she wanted a social life. Rehearsals never stopped her from hanging out with us before."

"You really think she wouldn't come because _you_ were the one who asked her? The rest of us were there, too."

He shrugged. "Maybe she didn't want me to get the wrong impression, to think she was interested because it was me." He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I know she's sweet and smart and funny, and god, is she sexy, but..."

Ross nodded. "Well, I can certainly see why you wouldn't want to give someone like _that_ a chance."

"Ross." Chandler forced himself to meet Ross' eyes, and he didn't know what Ross found there, but it made him shut up and move slightly away from the door. "Man, I really don't want to go through this. I just...don't. Not now." _Not ever._

Ross gave it one more chance. "So you'll just let this go on, without ever knowing."

Chandler thought about that for half a second. "Yeah."

In response, Ross shrugged and moved away from the door. "It's your life."

"And it's a wonderful one," Chandler muttered as he stepped past Ross and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully, they were soon following the moving truck to their old apartment building, and Chandler was able to avoid Symphony by piling into a cab with Rachel and Ross. He hardly spoke and barely heard their half-whispered conversation, though he suspected they were talking about him. When they arrived, he was once again grateful for the bustle of activity, so he could try to stop thinking for awhile.

_Being in love,_ he decided, _blows._

The apartment had been repainted, and was now a sedate tan. He wrinkled his nose at the boring walls as they started reversing the packing process.

"Man, this is dull," Joey commented as he looked around the familiar apartment. He stepped aside as the others entered.

"We should paint it," Chandler replied. He pretended to consider. "_Purple,_ I think." He exchanged grins with Monica and continued unpacking. He felt very, very home, even though he'd spent most of his time in this building living across the hall, and he'd been right, he reflected; no one could dampen this day. They were home. All of them.

As soon as five o'clock approached, Joey tossed aside the box he was emptying and slapped his hands together. "Okay, dinner time. Beer run!"

"Ah, yes, the traditional first item in any bachelor's refrigerator," Ross said.

"And maybe some pop-tarts," Joey added.

As the others groaned, Chandler grabbed Joey by the arm and headed toward the door with him. "I'll go, too, and keep an eye on him. Somebody order pizza so we have something to eat besides pop-tarts."

"Sounds good," Mike offered, heading for the door with him. "Not the pop-tarts," he added. "Just the getting something to eat part."

Ross grabbed the keys off the counter. "I'll go, too."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Rachel turned to Symphony. Symphony was watching the door over her shoulder from her place on the couch, her look wistful. Rachel glanced at Monica and Phoebe; Monica raised her eyebrows and Phoebe gestured emphatically at Symphony with her head. "Hey, Symph."

Symphony turned around. "Yeah?"

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Rachel rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee, and grinned.

Suddenly looking like a rabbit facing down a car, she replied, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we've just been noticing how you kinda look at our guys..." Rachel glanced again at Monica, who grinned back. "Seems like maybe you're just a teeny bit interested in somebody?"

"For god's sakes, say it!" Phoebe blurted. "Are you interested in--"

"Don't!" Symphony blurted back, turning in panic to Phoebe. "Please...it's bad enough that I feel this way, when he's...oh, jeez, don't make me say it." She dropped her head in her hands.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Rachel reached for one of her hands while Monica reached for the other. Phoebe joined her on the couch and patted her back.

Symphony raised up. "I'm an idiot, that's what's wrong. I've spent my whole life not having one-- my existence has centered around my stupid violin. I finally decide I deserve to actually _know_ people, and this is how well I manage it. I am _so_ stupid. All the guys in New York, and I pick one who's completely unavailable. _Impossibly _unavailable."

"Unavailable?" Monica repeated. "Who are you talking about? We thought you were interested in Chandler." When Symphony met her eyes with another rabbit-vs.-car look, she said, "You're always watching him, you blush when you laugh at his jokes, you get nervous when he stands next to you-- we thought sure--" She looked to Rachel for help.

Symphony shook her head just a tiny bit. "I, I-- yes, Chandler. You-- I-- wait a minute." She closed her eyes and reordered her thoughts. "You're saying Chandler is available. _To me._"

"Yes!" Rachel slapped her knees for emphasis.

She shook her head again. "But isn't he gay?"

The other three women exchanged amused glances, and Monica asked, "Why would you think that?"

"Well, he's so...perfect." Symphony shrugged as if that should explain it completely, but when they kept staring at her, she continued. "He's sweet and attentive and well-spoken, he always looks perfect, and, well...I was floored by him the first time I saw him. He's why I stepped in and offered to continue your tour at the Center. And I figured, if I was interested in him, there must be _something_ wrong with him that would mess it up for me. And when I got to know him and he was so wonderful, I figured that was the only thing left. And...and...wanting to paint the apartment purple?" Monica and Rachel exchanged looks, both suppressing laughter. She looked at each of them in turn for confirmation. "He's not gay?"

"No," Phoebe said. "And he's crazy about you."

This brought her up straight. "He is?" Receiving three enthusiastic nods, she said, "Then why hasn't he said anything?"

"Oh, there's a list of reasons for that," Monica drawled. "Short answer is, he's too terrified to make the first move. You'll have to do that."

Symphony nodded, considering. "Okay, I can do that. I can do that."

"Scared?" Rachel asked, tilting her head.

"Ooh, yeah."

Monica smiled encouragingly. "Even though you know what the answer's going to be?"

"Sheltered life," Symphony reminded them. "Violin. Rehearsals. Philharmonic."

They glanced at each other, realization dawning slowly. "Oh. Oh...OH."

"Consider this a 'first major boyfriend' kind of nervousness," Symphony said. "How nervous were you guys, the first time you asked a guy out?"

"If you wanna throw up, it's okay," Phoebe told her, rubbing her back again.

"It'll be fine," Monica said. "You like him. He likes you. That's a better start that most people get."

"And he's a nice guy," Rachel said, grabbing her hand again and patting it. "Really."

"I can do this," Symphony repeated, and the others grinned, watching her psych herself up.

"Would it help if we weren't here?" Monica asked.

Symphony looked at her in horror. "You want me to do it _now? _Today?"

"Are you gonna chicken out otherwise? If you are, then yes, today, as soon as they get back!" Monica stood decisively. "You guys remember that restaurant down the block, the one with the weird green curtains? Let's go there instead of ordering in. We'll leave when the guys get back and take them with us." She pinned Symphony with a patented Monica glare. "And you guys can join us afterwards, _after_ you've told Chandler how you feel about him."

"You can do this!" Rachel squeezed Symphony's hand. "Come on, we know you can--"

The door opened and the guys came in. "Hey," Joey greeted them, placing a bag on the counter. "Didja guys order--"

"Come on," Monica snapped, "we're going out to eat."

"What? Why?" Chandler asked.

"Not you," Monica replied. He watched in confusion as Rachel and Phoebe joined Monica and each began dragging a guy out of the apartment. Ross tried to question Rachel, but she only shushed him and shoved him out with the others.

"See you later, tiger," she purred at Chandler on her way out the door.

Chandler turned around. Symphony was still sitting on the couch, looking flushed and terrified.

_Great,_ he thought. _This is their way of getting us together? About as subtle as a two-by-four to the head..._

"Hi," she said, barely able to meet his eyes.

"Um...hi." _Nice. Smooth,_ he berated himself. He approached the couch warily, and she stood to face him.

"Apparently, we have something to talk about," she said, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

He let that sink in. "They _told_ you?" He looked around for someone to be angry with, and came up empty. "I can't believe-- look, I'm sorry--"

She leaned slightly, trying to recapture his gaze. "Yeah, they told me. But it's okay, don't apologize. I mean, if they were right...it's okay."

"What's okay?" He looked back at her, feeling almost petulant. His friends took far too much delight in his discomfort, he decided.

"It's okay that you're interested in me." When he dropped his gaze, she added, "Because I'm interested in you, too."

That snapped his head back up. "You wha-- huh? You are?" At her nod, he asked, "Why didn't you say something, let me know...?"

She started to answer, then waved it off. "Long story. I'm saying something now."

He began to relax a little, letting this, too, sink in. "You're interested in me."

She nodded. "You could put it that way."

"Okay." He cleared his throat. "Symphony, would you-- would you like to go out with me some time? Just the two of us? You know, on a date?"

She bit her lip, her eyes uncertain, then she seemed to come to a decision. She reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere. "Yes," she replied, her gaze dropping to his chest and her eyes lighting fiercely. "But not right now." She pulled the ruined shirt from his shoulders, and in his shock, he didn't resist her. When she touched the waistband of his jeans, though, he grabbed her wrists gently.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, ducking a little to look straight into her face. "Are you really-- do you really want _me_?"

She looked back at him, deep into his eyes, and began to smile. A joyous, bright smile that radiated warmth that he thought he could actually feel. "Yes. I am so sure. More sure than I've ever been about anything, ever." And she leapt on him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and they tumbled happily to the floor.

_Thank god for friends,_ Chandler thought to himself, and then he found his focus narrowing until there was only one thing he could think about, and he felt himself grinning, because his one thing was this funny, smart, lovely woman who wanted _him_.

Maybe love wasn't so bad, after all.


End file.
